


Those Nights

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylar and Mohinder engage in a very complicated dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt cocacat15 wrote: #45 - Open: On the nights that Mohinder wants to see Sylar, he leaves the window open, despite the nighttime chill, despite the dangerous New York neighbourhood, and on the nights he simply cannot handle it all, he locks it tight -- Sylar has learned to give Mohinder those nights to grieve.

_"If you knew how much I love you   
You would run away.   
But when I treat you bad   
It always makes you want to stay."   
_\-- **Vast, _"Pretty When You Cry"   
_**  
_"And love? Well, if sex is sweet and death is bitter, love is both.   
Love will always and forever break your heart."   
_\-- **Hill, _"Visits, Conjugal and Otherwise",_ Oz   
**

 

The nights Sylar comes through Mohinder's open window he knows it is by invitation even though Mohinder looks at him as if it is an intrusion. Mohinder is usually at his desk working on his laptop or making something to drink in the kitchen. When Sylar makes himself known it is usually with a snarky pleasantry. For his part Mohinder responds with an undeniably venomous line. Sylar smirks, Mohinder glares, they engage in a level of verbal sparring that seems almost poetic. During all of this Sylar brings himself closer into Mohinder's personal space. Each time he gets close Mohinder pushes him away with a fire in his eyes. Sylar, eyes never leaving Mohinder's, lets the push carry him back a few steps, a cocky smile on his lips. Then he's right back in Mohinder's space and Mohinder is pushing him away again. They make their way around the apartment like this. It can go on for hours. 

It is the same dance each night he visits. 

Eventually when Sylar gets into Mohinder's space and Mohinder puts his hands on Sylar it is not to push him away. Instead his hands both resist and grasp onto Sylar in one movement. This is when Sylar closes off any space still left between them. As he pushes Mohinder against the wall he brings himself between Mohinder's slightly parted legs, pressing his body against him. Mohinder's hands are at Sylar's chest keeping him close while Sylar's hands find their way to Mohinder's neck, where it meets his shoulders, cupping both sides. Sylar uses his height advantage to appear as if he is looming over Mohinder. They stand like this, staring into each others eyes for what seems like an eternity. It is Sylar's favourite part – when he can feel Mohinder's resistance and desire at the same time. At once they exist together in that moment where they both want it. As Mohinder's heart pounds in his ears Sylar brings his lips to Mohinder's. It is a long drawn out kiss that goes deep to their cores and elicits a moan from both. Those are the nights they make love. It is slow, lingering and incredibly intimate. Too personal for two people who should not care.

Which is a bit different from the nights they fuck.

Those nights actually start early in the day for Sylar with a desire so intense for Mohinder he can barely contain himself. All he can think about is touching Mohinder and tasting his skin; looking into his eyes and feeling his breath on his body. The only way he can deal with this need, hide it from Mohinder, is to match Mohinder's aggression each step of the way. Those are the nights where, when Mohinder pushes him away, Sylar pushes right back with no hint of a smile. Mohinder pushes him into the desk; Sylar pushes him into the bookcase. Mohinder pushes him against the fridge; Sylar pushes him against the wall. Same dance, different tune. It progresses to the point where the two men are practically holding each other with a death grip in the middle of the living room, breathing heavy, hearts pounding, eyes piercing each other. Those are the nights Sylar surprises himself by letting Mohinder be the dominant one. It does not always turn out that way but it is still more often than Sylar would ever have initially anticipated. There is something about Mohinder fucking him like this moment is the only one they have that he cannot put into words. There is a pleasure in knowing he is wanted that intensely. The nights they fuck it is raw and primal and far too personal for very different reasons.

On those nights they always fall asleep with Mohinder on his side, his back to Sylar's chest. Bodies curved together, Sylar's arm lays possessively across Mohinder's body, his fingers intertwined with Mohinder's. After a night of making love they fall asleep either with Sylar lying on his back with Mohinder's head on his chest, hands joined together or with Mohinder on his back with Sylar curled up against him, his face pressed against Mohinder's neck, again hands entwined. There is never space between them.

Sylar always wakes up before Mohinder. In those quiet early morning hours when no one exists in New York City, hell the world, except for them, Sylar always reflects on the night before. In his mind he relives and analyzes every moment – every word, every glare, every push, every hitched breath, every gasp, every taste, every smell, every thrust, every moan, every smile. He notes the differences from night to night; the subtle changes that only mean something to him – could be Mohinder revealing a quick smile when he first sees Sylar before going into fighting mode, could be Sylar stroking Mohinder's face longer than usual when they are up against the wall. 

Whenever Sylar is in his reflective mode he always pauses at the same moment: When he and Mohinder are in each others faces, hands holding their bodies together, staring into each others eyes. He knows what Mohinder is thinking. He can read it in his eyes. It is always the same thought. Mohinder thinks Sylar's visits are just to mess with his head; that Sylar knows Mohinder's conflicted feelings, hating him and desiring him, and takes pleasure in fucking with him. Sylar is happy for the misconception. On the one hand he likes the façade he is able to put up for Mohinder, appearing unattached and cocky. It does well to hide the truth he keeps hidden so deep it almost suffocates him. The conflict he sees in Mohinder's eyes is not so different from the one within him. 

In the early morning hours when he watches himself with a sleeping Mohinder, hypnotized by the beauty of their contrasting skin, calmed by their matching heartbeats, he worries that one day Mohinder will discover the truth about his reasons for visiting. He knows that if Mohinder figures it out he will know that he does have power over Sylar. He will know that he can break Sylar in two just by the simple act of walking away and never looking back. When that thought enters Sylar's mind he knows the only way he will be able to survive that would be to destroy Mohinder. And then everything would be lost. Mohinder is the one bit of humanity that still exists in Sylar's world. He is the one thing that keeps Sylar from going completely and utterly mad. In a way unknown to Mohinder he actually anchors Sylar. Without him there is no telling what Sylar would become. To avoid that mess Sylar knows he must keep his true feelings to himself. But there are times when those three little words – those goddamn words – _I love you_ – almost escape past his lips. Those near slips of the tongue have become more frequent. So far Sylar has always managed to catch them just in time. But one day…he does not want to think about it. Instead he wants to just enjoy being with Mohinder without the weight of the past on either of them. This feeling only lasts for as long as Mohinder is still asleep. As soon as Sylar feels Mohinder begin to stir he takes one last look before leaving. Mohinder normally awakens to the sound of the front door closing or footsteps heading down the fire escape and the bed still warm next to him.

Then there are those other nights. The nights when the door and windows to the apartment are locked shut to keep Sylar out.

Sylar's a quick learner. It only took two nights like this for him to figure it out. The first time he thought it was part of the fun: Mohinder simply throwing another moveable obstacle in his way. He could hear Mohinder inside the apartment but something was off. It took him an hour, he nearly had to break down the door, to get in. What he found was Mohinder sitting on the floor of his bedroom, his back up against the side of the bed, eyes red from tears that would not stop, hands laid out in his lap. He barely acknowledged his late night visitor. Sylar did not know what to do. He had never seen Mohinder like this before. His natural instinct was to sit next to Mohinder, to comfort him. Sylar fought that instinct and left almost as fast as he had arrived. The second time he was locked out it only took ten seconds for him to get into the apartment. He found Mohinder in the exact same position as the week before. This time he did sit next to Mohinder. No words were spoken, just the simple act of his presence. But when he went to put his arm around Mohinder's shoulders, after convincing himself it would be acceptable for whatever it was they were to each other, he felt Mohinder immediately freeze up. Sylar immediately recognized his misstep. That is when Sylar knew that those were the nights Mohinder needed to be by himself.

Yet he still never leaves him.

Instead on those nights Sylar sits on the fire escape outside of Mohinder's window and listens to him. As the cold metal seeps though his clothes to his skin and Mohinder's heart pounds out its devastation on the other side of the window Sylar, head in his hands, retreats. And Gabriel steps forward. He listens as Mohinder grieves. Grieves for the family he left behind in India and for the father taken so brutally out of this world. He cries for all the mistakes he has made and the ways he feels he has fallen short. And he cries from the self awareness that he has fallen in love with the man who murdered his father and countless others. Gabriel mourns alongside Mohinder, though Mohinder never knows it. Gabriel mourns for what could have been. He misses the discussions they had as friends when he was Zane; they way Mohinder's face lit up when he smiled. He regrets that much of Mohinder's pain is as a result of his actions: his father, the road trip, the ultimate betrayal. Gabriel knows how to loathe himself as much as Mohinder on those nights. And so Gabriel sits on the fire escape listening until he hears the unmistakable sound of Mohinder falling asleep. This is when Gabriel finally closes his eyes and Sylar reawakens.

It is on those nights, after Mohinder has finally cried himself to sleep, that Sylar reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sheet of folded paper. As his eyes scan down the column of names he ignores the ones already crossed out until he finds the first unmarked one.

Tonight that name is Faisal Ahmed. Glancing at the address he sees he could be there in about one hour.

Sylar folds up the paper and makes his way off of the fire escape. He wonders how Mohinder would react if he knew that the nights Sylar comes to him, stays with him, are the nights Mohinder is _more_ important to him than _any _name on _any_ list. Would Mohinder appreciate the significance? Or would he hate himself more for the nights he locks Sylar out?

As Sylar makes his way down the street away from Mohinder's apartment he is already thinking about his next visit.

When they can begin their dance all over again. 

**Author's Note:**

> **Nominated for Best Angst Fic**


End file.
